“I hope you like pretty clothes, Richard,” she said, archly, handing him the basket, and wafting odors of lavender and of violet from her laced bosom like a living flower.
“Indeed, Jilian, I am proud to see you look so gay.”
“La, sir, I shall be a terrible expense to you, I am sure. What will you give me to dress myself on? Twenty pounds, eh, cousin?”
“You will be spoiling me, sir. But I do love pretty clothes, Richard, and scarves and perfumes and jewelry. Is it vanity, sir?”
“Very natural vanity,” quoth Mr. Richard, smiling, yet looking a little thoughtful.
Miss Hardacre glanced at him and arched her brows.
“There, you are teasing me, Richard,” she said; “I am sure you are.”
“Now you are frowning, to be sure. Is ought amiss with you, mon cher? You looked quite troubled and absent. Does my silly chatter tire you? I am such a gay, thoughtless little thing, and you, sir, are so terribly clever. Oh, I do hope I shall make you happy!”
Jeffray, angry with himself for the rebellious thoughts that were in his heart, pressed Miss Hardacre’s hand, and poured a pretty speech or two into her ear.
“I am a little troubled, Jilian,” he confessed. “Dr. Sugg told me this morning that there is a case of small-pox in Rodenham.”
Miss Jilian’s mouth gaped a little and her eyes hardened.
She had shrunk almost imperceptibly away from him.
“I hope you have not been in any of those horrid cottages, Richard? The wretched people are so dirty and careless. Oh, the thought of the plague always terrifies me.”
Jeffray glanced at her gravely and with slight surprise. Miss Hardacre’s expression was one of petulant impatience.
“It will be a terrible thing, Jilian,” he said, “if the villagers are stricken down. The poor people are so ignorant that they cannot help themselves.”
“La, Richard, it will be their own fault, the silly, dirty wretches. Let me implore you not to go into Rodenham village.”
“I am not afraid,” quoth Mr. Richard, quietly.
“But you must think of me, sir. I do not want to be disfigured for life. Sir Peter would never let me be inoculated—or whatever they call it. He always said it was a nasty piece of nonsense.”
Richard hung his head a little, and noticed that Miss Hardacre still held her perfumed person at some slight distance from him.